Heron Lake Plateau Tiptoe Thru' the Tulips with Me

Owen was still rather jumpy, and having some issues sitting still. Ironically enough this only increased his nervousness though because from somewhere deep in his mind little mini-movies kept popping up in a corner of his awareness, memories of the many times he'd screwed up the courage to venture out and about and paid for it rather sorely. (Damn things refused to minimize or X out, too; it was like the world's worst pop-up ads.) So really, it was much safer to just set down and stay put in one place, wasn't it? Only his feet didn't seem able to do that today. He ventured wide of the pups' rendezvous area and circled about a few times before deciding that if he wasn't going to be able to relax he might as well at least have a destination in mind. Carefully skirting the edges of the couple of small patches of snow lurking in the shade of the trees, he started wandering in the direction of the old densite.

He felt a vague dissatisfaction bubbling in his stomach, and didn't find this plan entirely satisfactory still, knowing that the dugout den was likely to be cold and dead and bare. (Unless something else might have taken up residence inside of it...but no, no no no, that was pretty ridiculous; none of the elder Redhawks would stand for such a thing here in the heart of their territory, surely...surely. Owen tried to talk himself down before he got himself all spun up again, with only limited success.) His steps were quite willing to find themselves diverted before they'd quite arrived, therefore, as his nose caught an intriguing array of strange plant scents, which as he hesitantly stepped nearer also acquired a slight scent of...Mother? It had been a while since she'd been in the area too much, but Owen's ears perked and his tail quirked upward even as his footsteps picked up speed at the hint of aroma buried under the decrepit flowers', nonetheless.

 There was a ragged patch of wilting and brown foliage in a gathered bunch as Owen pushed past the last bit of wild undergrowth and sniffed inquisitively. It all looked pretty much the same to him, but he drew comfort from that dim but once upon a time thoroughly spread scent of his mother's, along with a couple of other wolves' smells of varying degrees of familiarity. Raven's was the one that stood out to him as he sniffed around the somewhat overgrown garden, though; Raven's was the one that drew him to go cutting his way through the middle. The lines engraved in Owen's face grew shallow as he relaxed a little. It still needed a little bit of something else, however, in his still rather turbulently emotional state. Owen balanced himself somewhat precariously on three legs as he hitched a hind one up as high as he safely could, and added his own scent atop the others'. Yes. That was much better, he thought with satisfaction as he crept a few steps away and with a contented sigh at last laid himself down among the dessicated flowerstalks to get himself what he felt was a well-deserved and overdue nap.

Forward-dated! @Tywyll and Fire perhaps, if y'all are still wanting?  ;)  *offers piss-scented bouquets*